


Thy Mother's Glass

by Prisspanem



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Tumblr: promptsinpanem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisspanem/pseuds/Prisspanem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based loosely around the movie Firelight. </p><p>To help keep her family alive, Katniss takes up the strangest of job offers. But can she go through with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. RED

**Author's Note:**

> Four chapters, each one entered for a different round of PiP, and each representing a different colour, which is reflected in the chapter titles.
> 
> Would love to hear feedback. Find me on tumblr as prisspanem.
> 
> As always, characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I own nothing.

**Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest**

**Now is the time that face should form another;**

**Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,**

**Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother,**

**For where is she so fair whose unear’d womb**

**Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?**

**Or who is he so fond will be the tomb**

**Of his self-love, to stop posterity?**

**Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee**

**Calls back the lovely April of her prime:**

**So thou through windows of thine age shall see**

**Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.**

**But if thou live, remember’d not to be,**

**Die single, and thine image dies with thee.**

Sonnet 3, William Shakespeare

 

_Part 1 Manchester, 1895_

For two years, since her father’s death, Katniss and her family had struggled to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Her mother had only recently shown any recovery from the dark grief that had plunged her into the shell of a person. Despite her anger at her mother for leaving it up to her seventeen year old daughter to do what she could to keep them alive, Katniss nevertheless couldn’t help feeling slight relief that at least with her mother beginning to recover, that she would no longer need to be the only one working to earn their keep. Her mother was a healer. She could get a job working in the local hospital again.

At ten years old, her sister Primrose was still far too young to be sent to work.

She was also far too young to be a victim of pneumonia. It had gripped her unexpectedly that winter, and showed no signs of letting go. While her mother did what she could with the basic supplies of natural remedies she kept in their small pantry, Katniss knew they needed a miracle. They needed money.

But Katniss could not physically work any more hours than she had been. As it was, she was lucky to get three hours of sleep a night. And in the town that they lived, working in the cotton mill was the best wage someone of her status could hope to have.

Salvation came in the form of paper; a square no larger than the palm of Prim’s hand. It was an advertisement in the newspaper; she often picked up discarded papers to take home as kindling for their fireplace. Somehow despite all the odds, this advert had caught her eye.

It asked for healthy unmarried ladies with manners, between the ages of 16-21, who were available to give up a year of their time for a job opportunity with generous payment. Enquiries were to be sent to a Ms Trinket within the week, including a photograph of themselves.

Katniss had rushed her letter to the post office that very afternoon. It was how she found herself three days later being taken by carriage to a local small town outside of Manchester. Katniss had been hastily led to a dark drawing room of a small country inn the moment her feet had touched the ground from the carriage.

The blinds were drawn, a single lantern which stood on a centre table was the only source of light in the room. Its flame flickered across the face of a well dressed yet slightly over the top woman of around forty years old, who sat at the table reading a few different letters, and studying various black and white photographs strewn in front of her. The woman seemed to sense her presence, and quickly welcomed her to sit down at the chair across from her. As she introduced herself as Effie Trinket, Katniss tried not to stare at the woman’s hair, which upon closer inspection, was not grey-blonde as she had originally thought, but seemed to hold twinges of red. Or was that the candle flame giving it that effect in such a small room?

It was when Ms Trinket began to tilt her head and stare at her, analysing her for a little too long, that Katniss tried to avert her gaze by sweeping the room of additional details. The usual coaching pictures hung on the walls, the fireplace stood unlit to their left, but with partially burnt wood still glowing resin parts, that led her to believe someone had recently extinguished the fire shortly after burning it.

Next to the fire, she noticed a folding screen had been placed, the kind better suited for a ladies’ parlour room. She thought she saw a flash of piercing blue eyes through one of the joins, but it was too brief for her to be sure.

The voice of Ms Trinket cut through her thoughts. She had asked her a little of her background at first; why she had applied for the role, what she did for a living, her family situation and so on. Katniss’ answers seemed to please her for the most part, and generally it had seemed fairly normal at first. No doubt the position was for the role of a governess, or live in housekeeper for a fixed term.

And then the questions became more personal. What family illnesses did she know of, was she being courted by anyone, was her maidenhead intact? How frequent were her monthly cycles?

How well could she keep a secret?

Before Katniss had a chance to ask why she needed to know these things, Ms Trinket began to explain. She worked for a wealthy noble family in Norfolk, a husband and wife who married five years prior but had not been able to have children. This was mostly due to the health of the wife, who had declined so much in recent months that doctors feared it was only a matter of time before she would no longer be for this world. The husband was desperate for a child, an heir to pass the family estate onto. As he was the last surviving member of the fortune, it did not matter if it was a girl or boy.

They were therefore looking for a woman who was prepared to give birth to an heir, and more importantly, give the child up as soon as it was born. She would need to sign a contract silencing her to the deed, and for the nine months of pregnancy would need to be kept away from the public eye, at the gentleman’s expense. Ms Trinket would largely be taking care of whoever took on the task, making sure the woman would want for nothing until the birth. To get pregnant, she would need to spend three nights alone with the gentleman (she was not allowed to know his name in order to protect them both) and that this would be arranged in a hotel far enough away that the risk of being recognised was very little to either one of them.

It took a few moments for it all to sink in for Katniss. It was not the thought of giving up a child that put her slightly at ease; truth be told she had never been interested in the thought of having children, so she did not see a problem in giving one up. And the amount being offered was enough to not only see to Prim’s medical bills, but to keep them all relatively comfortable for at least a few more years if they were careful with the money.

So when she was asked if she had any questions, Katniss replied with only one. The gentleman had clearly seen her face; requesting a photograph now made complete sense to her. She asked that she be allowed to see the man of whom she would be expected to do this with. Truth be told, she didn’t really feel she needed to, but she suspected they were not the only two people in the room, and she felt slightly angry at the deception.

Her suspicions were confirmed when a shadow began to move around the other side of the screen. Stepping out was a man not much taller than her, but with broad shoulders, golden blonde hair that caught the candlelight just so, and those eyes that were so blue Katniss found herself needing to look away from his stare. She had no made acquaintances with many men in her time, but she could see he was very attractive.

Ms Trinket was in the middle of telling Katniss that they would be in touch when he spoke for the first time. “Katniss will be more than suitable Effie.”She caught his eye again, raising an eyebrow. “If she agrees, that is.”

Until he had stepped out from behind that screen, she had no idea what her answer would actually be. But the moment she saw him and heard him speak, she knew she would agree. There was just something about him.

She signed the paperwork, shook Effie’s hand, and returned to the carriage to await the next step.

There was no going back.

xxx

She was sent to a hotel in the Lake District, a beautiful property that overlooked the water. They had arrived on the same train, but travelled separately. She knew she needed to keep her room unlocked, and he would make his way to her shortly after she retired following dinner. The days were for her to spend as she pleased. She decided to stay in her room until dinner was served downstairs; the time alone was well needed for her.

Dinner was uneventful, but the food was of a luxury she had never before had. Her nerves prevented her from eating too much, and when the clock struck nine, she settled her knife and fork down, and went to await his arrival.

The first time had been brief and awkward and for her, not without discomfort. He had asked her if she needed any drink or refreshment beforehand, to which she refused. The swift brandy he poured for himself betrayed his own nerves.

A part of her was glad when they finally got down to it. She had to remove her corset and skirts to give him a signal she was ready to proceed; he clearly was far too much of a gentleman to initiate it, even though they both knew he was the reason they were in that room together in the first place. She had lain down on the bed, arms by her side, as he climbed on top of her. Very few clothes were shed, only the necessary areas laid bare. IT had been awkward and uncomfortable at first when he entered her, but he went slow, and apologised and paused whenever he felt she needed to. Finally, growing as used to him as she felt she could be, she gave a small nod which thankfully he picked up on, even if they could not look each other in the eyes. Clearly, he felt a similar guilt as she did in doing this.

The lights had been extinguished, with only a faint red glow emanating from the fireplace. Katniss had stared at the way the firelight danced across the ceiling, while he moved over her and in her. She had been surprised to find that she could hear the dry fizzle of the crackling wood far more than any noises coming from the blonde haired man, despite his mouth being millimetres from her ear. His breath left goosebumps down her shoulder.

It wasn’t long before he finished, and it was over. With a sudden surge of pace, and a quiet groan, she had felt it and knew there was definitely no going back. Strangely, she expected to feel different somehow. Aside from the guilt she had felt in the first place, and the slight soreness between her legs, she still felt pretty much the same. There was almost relief in fact; that she had done it, that he was gentle, and that next time it would no doubt be a little easier now they knew what they were in for. Two more nights they had to spend together in the hotel, before they were to part ways. And if it did not work for this month, and Katniss had her usual monthly cycle, they would need to meet again. So she was determined to do everything she could to do this right.

xxx

He had left her room that same night, as soon as he was dressed. And so it was that at sunrise, she found herself entering the hotel restaurant under the guise of a single traveller. It was deemed by all involved that it was safer this way than to pretend to be husband and wife; if by any misfortune someone were to recognise either one of them, it was far easier to explain being there individually than it was to be seen together.

She had been the first guest to attend the breakfast sitting, and was just pouring herself a second cup of tea when he entered the room. Her eyes were drawn to his instantly before she could help herself. Her face flamed red at the image of him above her on her bed, and she quickly glanced around to make sure no one had seen their interaction before returning to her breakfast. He chose a table across the room; it make her feel relieved and lonely at the same time.

That afternoon, she decided to walk around the shore of the lake in front of the hotel. Katniss had been skimming stones across the water for some time when she felt his presence. His steps crunched loudly on the stone shore as he approached. She continued to throw stones.

Eventually he joined her. They stood in mutually calm silence, taking in their surroundings, not wanting to spoil the tranquility of it all. The Sun, being winter, had already begun to set, casting a soft orange-red glow across the lake. She knew he was probably there to apologise, but she was not interested in it. She knew what she had gotten herself into.

Instead, he surprised her by talking about his family. They weren’t allowed to give names or details, it was a part of the agreement, but he spoke of how he would skim stones with his brothers in summer at their family lake. How his father liked to paint, and taught him how. How when the typhoid outbreak of ’79 slowly took them one by one, leaving him all alone, all he had to remember them by were a few paintings and some sunken stones in the water. How he wanted there to be more to their family line than him. He couldn’t let their memories and image die with him. How he wanted a family to love again.

HIs confiding in her somehow led her to confide in him also. So she told him of the heartbreak of losing her father, of the hatred she had for her mother for sometime afterwards. How she would do anything for Prim, her little sister, who she had to bring up practically as her own for some time. How she never wanted children, because the world was too dark a place to do that to a child.

That night, when he came to her room, something had shifted slightly between them. She had slowly undressed in front of him as he watched wide eyed, until she was completely naked. He bared all for her, and when they went to lie down on the bed, once again his hair above her lit by the firelight, there was no longer arms by sides and eyes averted. Katniss tentatively allowed her hands to explore; and he in turn held her gaze, and did not hurry to enter her. He asked through his hands where she felt pleasure, and received answers in her throaty groans and sighs. One particular spot surprised them both with the pleasure she felt, until sparks lit behind her eyes and the fire was no longer in the fireplace but running red through her veins.

When he entered her for the second time, there was no discomfort, only more building of pleasure for them both. He held her gaze the whole time, and when she felt he was close, she stroked his arms to encourage him further. The thrill that she felt upon watching him fall apart because of her was more shocking than any of the other sensations she felt.

His forehead dropped to hers after. She’s not entirely sure who closed the distance between their lips first, but she was pretty sure it was her.

When he went to leave, she pulled him back down and asked him to stay. And both had the most contented night’s sleep they could remember.

xxx

By the third night, she knows they were both in trouble. Hesitancy had long gone; instead their bodies came together like waves crashing on the shore the moment he entered her room for the last time. It was glorious and bittersweet and nothing and everything she expected. He made her feel something new, and it scared her how comfortable she felt around him already.

When it was over, and the dawn began to break through their window, a melancholy settled over them.

They were to board different trains that afternoon, but found themselves waiting at the station, hand in hand. Despite having only been on that platform three days prior, it felt like an eternity to Katniss. So much had changed within her since her arrival. She found herself hoping they had not been successful that month, and yet knowing at the same time deep down that they had.

As she watched the train pulling into the station, she took a deep breath, clutched his hand tighter, and dreaded the moment when she would finally have to let go.

 


	2. ORANGE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new."
> 
> Rajneesh

It had been as she feared. Three nights alone with him had been all it took for her to be with child. There were no complications, everything pointed to a healthy pregnancy. So there was no reason that she would need to see him again. The purpose was to create life, and that is what they had done. The rest, she would have to do alone.

Well, not completely alone. As part of the agreement, a cottage in a quiet town called Milton had been arranged for her and Effie to stay in for the duration of her journey. The family doctor, a Dr Aurelius, was send from Norfolk every week to check on her progress. Closer to the expected date of labour, he was to move to the local inn so that he could be summoned swiftly.

The cottage had been pleasant enough; cozy furnishings, a beautiful garden despite the crisp cold air of approaching spring. Even Effie, who seemed exceedingly efficient in Katniss’ daily schedule, did not disturb her. In fact, she had been grateful for her company. And she became her contact with the outside world, fetching anything she needed and sending letters to her mother and sister.

To explain her absence to her family, Katniss simply explained that she had secured a fixed term job overseas and would be gone for a year. Effie had been generous enough to give her half of the money in advance, so she was able to leave her family with more than enough money to pay for Prim’s medical bills, and to keep them well and secure while she was gone. Everything seemed to be working exactly as she had hoped.

It was four months into the pregnancy when things began to change. The first dandelions of spring were sprouting across the cottage lawn, casting a beautifully patterned blanket of yellows and green. And as Katniss sat on the bench one evening taking in the return of nature, the sun setting to the west turned the dandelions a fiery orange hue. They reminded her of him. The man she had come to name _Firelight_ , because she knew she would not be given his name from Effie, and it was how she remembered him; glowing golden hair and eyelashes that brushed her cheek like a whisper. _Firelight_ , who loved to paint sunsets, and made her want to take up sketching just to be a little closer to him.

So she requested a sketch pad and watercolours from Effie, and every evening the weather was well enough, she could be found in the garden desperately mixing and remixing colours, trying to find the perfect shade of orange for the dandelions in the pre-dusk glow. 

And it was on the day that she could finally set her paintbrush down, sit back and admire the picture she had created, and the perfect shade of the dandelions, that she felt it move for the first time. It was unmistakable. Light as butterflies dancing, but exactly where she knew the baby would be. It was as if it was as happy about the painting as she was.

It was overwhelming and terrifying. And she couldn’t take it.

And with the increased strength of movement, her terror increased. At five months, she could feel the kicks through her belly. Two weeks after that, as she carried her tea to her favourite rocking chair, she could see her stomach jump from the jabs. The teacup smashed on the wooden floorboards, and she broke down on her knees and cried. 

Such strong feelings being evoked inside her only confused Katniss. She had never wanted children of her own, knew that she would not need to worry or be responsible for this one.

But that was the problem. This one. She did want this one. This baby had been created by both of them. This baby, who was in her mind a blue eyed dark haired vision, was everything that held her to her _Firelight_. It was all she had left of him.

And even more than that, she wanted the chance to love his child. Love their child.

But she did not figure out these feelings until after the birth. She spent the rest of the pregnancy trying to ignore any movement, and forced herself not to cry whenever the melancholy set in. She found that humming and singing to it helped to settle the movements most days, so she found herself more often than not singing the same songs her father had sung to her when she was a little girl.

At seven months, Effie delivered her a handwritten letter, with a poem and a message to read it to the baby whenever she could. It was unsigned, with no message to her. She was disappointed, but not surprised.

This is the land the sunset washes,  
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea;  
Where it rose, or whither it rushes,  
These are the western mystery!

As she read, she found herself transported back to the Lakes, back to their last afternoon together. Where neither one of them felt the need to talk, where he held her and she held him and they watched the sun set across the water. Where she shivered, and he gave her his coat. Where she hadn’t felt so cared for since her father died. 

Night after night her purple traffic  
Strews the landing with opal bales;  
Merchantmen poise upon horizons,  
Dip, and vanish with fairy sails.

And then she remembered their last night again. How he looked at her with such reverence, his pale blue eyes shone as they swept across every curve of her. Long after they had both fallen apart in each other’s arms, he had sat watching her, his fingers tracing patterns on her hip. He had almost told her his name, but she knew why he shouldn’t. He was married, and belonged to another. She could not have him. It was easier this way. So she held her hand across his lips to silence him, and he kissed her hand desperately.

When labour finally began, it was late August and the stifling heat had begun to wane. She was in so much pain that she had very little opportunity to think or feel anything aside from each contraction. Dr Aurelius was efficient and had a good bedside manner, and Effie was surprisingly tender and supportive of her through the whole thing. Katniss was even too distracted to notice Effie’s hair had once again changed, which had cycled from red to blue and was now currently tipped with orange. In a strange way, each wave of pain made her feel increasingly empowered. She could do this. She was going to do this.

And then finally, after nearly twelve hours, the baby was born. The first piercing cry cut through her heart. And she only just heard Effie mutter the words “it’s a girl” before her baby was swiftly removed from the room. Katniss had not even seen her face. She did not know the colour of her hair, or her eyes. Dr Aurelius finished up with Katniss, before leaving her alone to rest. And all she could do was stare at the ceiling and cry.

Two brand new people were born in the room that day. A baby girl, who weighed 7lb 4 oz. 

And a mother.


	3. GREEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “On the first night
> 
> of the full moon,
> 
> the primeval sack of ocean
> 
> broke,
> 
> & I gave birth to you
> 
> pushing you out of myself
> 
> as my mother
> 
> pushed
> 
> me out of herself,
> 
> as her mother did,
> 
> & her mother’s mother before her,
> 
> all of us born
> 
> of woman.
> 
> Now the moon is full again
> 
> & you are four weeks old.
> 
> Little lion, lioness,
> 
> yowling for my breasts,
> 
> rowling at the moon,
> 
> how I love your lustiness,
> 
> your red face demanding,
> 
> your hungry mouth howling,
> 
> your screams, your cries
> 
> which all spell life
> 
> in large letters
> 
> the color of blood.”
> 
> Erica Jong

Two years had passed since the birth of her daughter. Time had passed, but the pain and memory had not waned. As soon as Katniss was given the go ahead, she had moved back home. Effie had informed her that the cottage was hers for as long as she needed to recover from childbirth, but there was nothing left for her there. Nothing but memories and pain.

Her return to her mother and sister had been bittersweet; while she was ecstatic at how much Prim had improved since she had last seen her, it also meant there was less to take her mind off all that had happened. The money from Effie had been more than enough for Katniss to not need to work nearly as many hours, and it even became the case that Prim was of age to begin taking up paid work if she so wished. So she joined her mother at the hospital despite Katniss’ protests that she did not need to, and her mother insisted that Katniss take time for herself to think about what it was she really wanted for herself. There were times she thought her mother looked at her with a mix of sorrow and understanding in her eyes, but if she could somehow tell what Katniss had done, neither spoke of it.

Katniss had at first tried to find ways of discovering his name, or an address. She had had no luck tracing Ms Trinket; had very little idea of where to start to trace her. But she did have the name of their family Dr, and only had to enquire via letter to the General Medical Council in London to find an address for him. They had responded promptly, sending her an address not in Norfolk, but Somerset. Not at all what she had expected.

He had retired it seemed, and moved away from the area. Katniss had received nothing she needed through letters, so had taken the decision to travel down to see him face to face. Even that was to no avail. He had felt sorry for her, but had stuck to his professional oath and would not share with her the address or even the name of the father of her child.

So she found ways to fill her time. Their church offered French lessons on Wednesday evenings, which she began to attend more from endless encouragement from Prim, and with the distant idea that one day it could be a means of escape to a better life.

The sketch pad and paints given to her in the cottage were stowed away in the bottom drawer of her dresser, too painful to look at at first. It was three months before Katniss took up the paints and paintbrush again, and added to her painting of the dandelions. And it was as she began her second drawing, of the hollybush coming to life in her neighbours garden, that she decided this would be no ordinary sketch book. Every drawing was an offering to her daughter; flowers for every season she missed watching her grow, and a gloriously impossible image of her one day being able to give her the book as a means of forgiveness for not being there herself. 

And so it was that two years had passed, and within her plant book the images of Irises, roses, fruits and many other images had added to that first dandelion painting. Eight seasons in total. For the two pages that passed on her daughter’s birthday, Katniss had added to her sketches by writing a message to her; with each scratch of the pen nib against the parchment, she imagined the words floating silently across the summer air and somehow finding their way to her daughter’s heart like a mother’s kiss. Her drawings were by no means perfect, but she ensured each image was practised again and again until Katniss was satisfied that they were good enough to go into the book. 

xXx

“Katniss?”

She looked up from her French book to acknowledge her sister.

“Katniss…I found a book in your blanket drawer.” It was only then that she took notice of the sketch book in her sister’s hands. “What is this Katniss?”

Without thinking but running on pure emotion, she reached across and snatched the plant book from Prim’s hands, clasping it to herself like it was her daughter.

Her sisters next words were whispered. “What did you do?” And the small blonde had barely stepped closer to her before she burst into tears. “Oh Kat. What happened?”

It took a lot of soothing from Prim to calm her down enough for her to catch her breath. Holding the crushing pain in for so long had been too much, and finally the wall had broken, bringing her emotions crashing around her. But she told her everything. The anonymous man from Norfolk, who broke her heart twice without either of them meaning for it to happen. The long and pointless search for her child. Why she kept the plant book in the first place.

“What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I know how to do.” She knew what her sister was asking. Her sister, who always had hope, no matter how dire the situation seemed. She still expected Katniss to continue trying to find them. But all she could do was tell the truth.

“I’m going to survive.”

xXx

Nevertheless, Prim slowly rubbed off on her. The idea of finding a job closer to Norfolk, so she could better search and inquire around. She encouraged Katniss to look into becoming a governess, so that she could work with other children, and use her motherly instincts practically elsewhere. Prim had every hope that her daughter would be discovered. Katniss did not.

Her French had been improving more and more over the following months, and she already had a basic enough knowledge of Maths and English to be able to pass for a decent enough teacher to any young child. So as soon as she felt she was ready, she signed on to an agency specialised in sourcing governesses for various households across the country. Katniss of course asked to be contacted for jobs specifically within the county of Norfolk. It was not unusual for women to request areas to work; it was, however, slightly unusual for someone to request to be placed somewhere so far from her current place of residence. 

It was around her daughter’s third birthday, and the twelfth watercolour in the plant book, that she was called into the agency to meet with a prospective employer. The competition for governess jobs in Norfolk was low as it wasn’t considered a particularly thriving area; most were seeking to leave for larger cities like London or Oxford. But equally, there were very few jobs available as well. So she was determined to get this one, no matter what the employer was like.

Which was just as well, as the man she was introduced to, a Mr Abernathy, overwhelmed both her senses with his strong smell of stale alcohol, as well as his abrasive manner. She had to bite her tongue at his repeated reference to calling her ‘sweetheart’ and commenting on her sour looks. It seemed he was not to be her direct employer, but as godfather to the master of Mockingjay Hall, he had taken on the task of acquiring someone to teach the child. As part of his responsibilities, the Lord of the house travelled a great deal, so it was not likely she had been informed that she would see very much of him. Abernathy at least seemed impressed with her knowledge of French when she seemed to speak to him fluently. Not that he spoke it himself it seemed. Katniss took the opportunity to say “Vouz avez plein de merde” when she was certain he did not speak any of the language. And when told that his master particularly wanted the charge to be taught art skills, it was her talk of her watercolour hobby that seemed to seal the deal in his eyes. She seemed the ideal match.

“And anyone who can tell me I’m full of shit in a job interview, has a lot of spunk if you ask me. Just what we could use.” He laughed off her scowl and held out his hand to shake on the offer.

In her heart she knew that if it had been her daughter, her noble family, then Effie would surely be the one to greet her. But a job was a job, and so Katniss swallowed any apprehension she felt, and shook Abernathy’s hand. The deal was done. She was going to Mockingjay Hall.

xXx

Teary goodbyes were said two weeks later to her family, before she was in the carriage on her twelve hour trip to Hunstanton on the Norfolk coast. The scenery became increasingly beautiful the further she travelled; cold hard mills and grey stone and smog was steadily replaced with the bounty of nature in summer. Blackberry bushes and horse chestnut trees flanked their wooded paths. All the colours of early autumn surrounded them as some of the leaves began to turn; warm greens still hung above their heads, whereas russet, copper and pumpkin orange browns littered the forest floors, leaving a carpet of golden colours. Before everything that had happened, autumn had been her favourite time of year.

She had fallen asleep ten hours into the journey, and was jerked awake by the change of ground surface the wheels rode over. It was no longer soft mud and stone, but pebbled and slower to ride over. It was the first indication that they were approaching the house, and not able to curtail her impatience, Katniss stuck her head out of the carriage window and took her first glance at her new home. 

It was grand yet warm somehow; well kept so that it still felt homely. Katniss could feel the pangs of jealousy begin to settle inside her. Looking up at Mockingjay hall, she could not help but feel that with how little she could offer, and how much her daughter most likely already had, that she were better off without Katniss after all. The thought had her scowling and feeling bitterness towards her employers already. Hating her _Firelight_ for being able to offer everything their daughter could possibly ever need. Surely there was no place for her.

xXx

“If it please you miss, take a few moments to settle in to your room, and I shall see the child is brought to you shortly to introduce yourself.”

The journey had taken far more out of her than expected, so much so that all she wanted to do upon seeing her sleeping quarters was to fall onto the bed and stay there for a fortnight. However, she gave the maid a nod to let her know that that was fine, and on the click of the door closing, avoided the bed for the moment to instead look around her room. 

It was simple enough. Green wallpaper adorned the walls, a plain bed with blue and white bedding was situated in the middle of the room. Two windows framed wither side of the headboard, and looked out onto the rear lake behind the house. The Sun had begun to set across the sky, casting a warm orange hue over the water and into her room.

The sound of the handle turning stopped Katniss short of being lost to thoughts of Windermere again, to skimming stones and sunsets and warm caresses from him in the firelight. Instead she looked up, ready to greet her new charge. And the sight that greeted her took her breath away.

In the maid’s arms, half asleep and curled into the woman, was a girl. A girl with brown hair and bright blue eyes. Eyes she had seen once before, in a hotel in the lakes. She did not need to hear her name, or her age, or anything more to know it was her. Her feelings told her all she needed to know.

It was her daughter.


	4. BLACK & WHITE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;
> 
> Tie up the broken threads of that old dream,
> 
> And go on happy as before, and seem
> 
> Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.
> 
> Let us forget the graves which lie between
> 
> Our parting and our meeting, and the tears
> 
> That rusted out the gold-work of the years,
> 
> The frosts that fell upon our gardens green.
> 
> Let us forget the cold, malicious Fate
> 
> Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,
> 
> And once more revel in the old sweet joys
> 
> Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late!
> 
> Forget the deep-ploughed furrows in my brow;
> 
> Forget the silver gleaming in my hair;
> 
> Look only in my eyes! Oh! darling, there
> 
> The old love shone no warmer then than now.
> 
> Down in the tender deeps of thy dear eyes
> 
> I find the lost sweet memory of my youth,
> 
> Bright with the holy radiance of thy truth,
> 
> And hallowed with the blue of summer skies.
> 
> Tie up the broken threads and let us go,
> 
> Like reunited lovers, hand in hand,
> 
> Back, and yet onward, to the sunny land.”
> 
> Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Hope. Her name was Hope. Hope Mellark. 

The girl was shy at first, her cornflower blue eyes always looking down and hiding behind her shiny brown hair, except when she felt Katniss wasn’t looking. Then they would glance curiously at this new woman put in charge of her care and education. She was as shy as Katniss would be at her age when in front of strangers and new people. 

But it didn’t take long for her to reveal her true charming self. She had been playing quietly in a corner of her nursery, just a day after Katniss first meeting her, and Katniss had decided to give the girl time to get used to her, rather than try to begin talking to her straight away. So she took to a chair near the wide bay windows overlooking the lake, and began to sketch a simple watercolour of the tulips being tended by the gardener. At that point she had only used charcoal to draw out the rough outlines, but the scratching against the rough paper had been enough to pique Hope’s interest, enough for her to slowly approach before taking a seat on the chaise langue next to Katniss. She continued to sketch, pretending to be oblivious to the girl.

"What drawing?"

Without looking up, but failing to keep the wide grin off her face, Katniss answered. “Flowers. From the garden. Look.” And pointed to the patch of end, yellow and violet tulips outside.

The girl seemed to think for a moment, before scuttling off across the room. Katniss couldn’t keep her eyes off her as she bent down to pick up a wooden box near here toy dolls house, before scuttling back to her.

"Colours. For flowers." And she held in her chubby youthful fingers a bright red piece of chalk. 

"Thank you. Would you like to help me colour them?" The girl nodded, and picked up a dandelion yellow chalk to begin work on the flower outline closest to her. It seemed the moment colour hit the picture, her face lit up instantly. Black and white soon disappears between the efforts of mother and daughter to a rather abstract sketch of colourful tulips. Both in their keenness missed the black lines, and hand and fingerprint smudges abounded the whole page.

It was Katniss’ favourite picture in the world.

xXx

She never brought up the truth to Hope. She played with her, and spent time introducing maths and the letters of the alphabet, and they spent every afternoon sketching and watercolouring. Sometimes she would ask Hope questions, from her favourite colour (purple) to the name of her teddy (it was simply Teddy) to questions about her parents. How often she saw her daddy, and where was her mother.

The girl seemed sad to talk about her father being away, but simply stated that her mummy was ‘sleeping’ upstairs and her daddy did not know when she would wake up as she was really really tired. She had not ever really talked to her, not that she could remember. When Katniss asked if she was sad about that, they girl simply shrugged.

Talk amongst the staff clued her in on the details. Lady Mellark, who had been ill for years, had slipped into a coma a few weeks after Hope’s birth. Some blamed the labour on her current situation; clearly, they did not know the truth at all.

There was nothing Katniss could do but do what she was being employed to do, and keep her secret to herself. Mostly, for the girl.

But partly for him.

Peeta. Lord Peeta Mellark. She had only learnt his full name a few days after arrival, picking it up through her day to day activities. Abernathy had been right in saying she would hardly see him. So far, she had been there for a fortnight, and he had not been home once. His status and responsibilities had him at that point travelling in Europe, with no specific time of return.

Which suited her just fine. Because there was a constant fear that no matter how kind he seemed, and how much she was sure he must have cared for her somehow, that he would tell Abernathy to cease her employment the moment he discovered the true mother of his child was living under their roof. And the worst part of the thought was that she knew it would be the right thing to do.

Her being there was dangerous. What they did was unspeakable in the eyes of society; of course, the truth was far more dangerous for her than for him. But equally dangerous for their daughter. And she would not risk that. She would give up Hope forever before that happened.

So Katniss spent her time with Hope just enjoying her daughter’s company, and gratefully observing and helping to shape the beautiful young lady she was already beginning to become.

xXx

It was a whole month before he came back. A carriage came rocking up the long stony path, and Hope seemed to recognise the sound immediately. She jumped up from their place on the floor surrounded by watercolours, and nearly knocked the pot of mixing water over in her haste to get outside. She had already dashed out of the room before Katniss had registered her gleeful call of “Daddy!” As she’d ran. The knowledge had her sick to her stomach.

She let her daughter go, and simply watched from the first floor window as Hope ran to her father, who had only just climbed out of the carriage. He began to spin her around while she screeched gleefully the way all wonderful children do in happiness. It was then that Katniss noticed she was still clutching the drawing she had been working on, and she watched as Hope began to hold it up to him.

From the angle she observed at, she could not see his face, only the top of his golden hair, just as vibrant as it was nearly four years ago. But she could just hear the deep tone of his voice as he praised Hope’s artwork and carried her inside.

xXx

Hope disappeared for the rest of that morning, and into the late afternoon. Katniss was informed by one of the staff in charge of Lady Mellark that she was in safe hands with her father, and that he would be putting her down for her daily nap.

So she took to tidying up the nursery a little, placing chalks and watercolours and toys back in the places they were met to be. She was so lost to her thoughts, she did not hear the heavy tread of footsteps approaching until he was already at the door.

"Excuse me for intruding, but as my daughter’s new governess I’d like to talk to you about how you’re teaching her to paint…"

At the sound of his voice, she had stood back up still holding the doll she had bent down to retrieve, and slowly turned around. His eyes widened the same instant he stopped talking, a look of shock mixed with something else across his face. Katniss simply clasped the doll tighter, afraid that her hands would obviously tremble if she didn’t. 

He was the first to shake off the dazed shock. “What are you doing here?” She had barely stuttered before a look of furied panic overtook his features and he dashed towards her grabbing at her arm. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I-I know, and I’m sorry but - “

"But you decided to ignore our agreement? What, are you hoping for more money or something?"

"Now wait a - "

"How dare you come here? How DARE you.” His grip tightened, but she did not notice it because the look he was giving her cut to her bones. And it wasn’t the icy anger in it, but the way he was now looking down on her. The loss of respect there for her. 

"I didn’t mean to come here. I didn’t know until I arrived… I mean, I had hoped to -“

"Oh I bet you’d hoped. If you expect me to believe it was some kind of divine fate that intervened and made you just so happen to get a job here - "

"No, that’s not -"

"You have to go. How much money do you want? I can get Effie to send it to you." His words hurt. Badly. She could understand his fears, but she would not have expected to feel like a common prostitute. The fact he thought it was about the money hurt her.

She tried to explain how it was she came to be there, tried not to let her impending tears fall, but at that moment, Abernathy interrupted before she could. “Sir, you’re needed upstairs.” He cast Peeta a sympathetic look when he had his attention. “It’s time.”

xXx

Lady Madge Mellark died at 6.15pm that day. Those not present at her deathbed were told she went peacefully. Hope stayed with her father, and They bothemained in their quarters upstairs.

Katniss spent her evening eating dinner with the kitchen staff, or what little had stayed to eat their dinner with company. Most had retired to their rooms as early as they could, sad and in mourning over their mistress’s death. Those that remained shared memories of the kind Lady of the house, and how pleasant she was before illness struck. Altogether, she seemed to be a kind woman worthy of Peeta. Katniss tried to bury the inappropriate jealousy she felt.

But however hard she tried, the bitter reality sank in for her. There was always a small idea in the back of her mind that would tell her she might stand a chance of being Peeta’s wife one day, and then legally Hope’s mother again, if nature were to take its course with Lady Mellark. But in the cold light of reality, she knew it wasn’t possible. Everything about their lives were so different; she was the charcoal black and white sketches to his vibrant watercolours. Everything he had said to her when he saw her, and the way he looked, confirmed everything she had tried to ignore but secretly knew to be true. He only saw her as someone beneath her; he didn’t want her, not really. And his talk of money, well, who could blame him? She had entered into this agreement in the first place due to money? What did that make her, if not a slightly more complex prostitute?

Yes. He showed her the truth. And she hated him for it.


	5. BLACK & WHITE pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;
> 
> Tie up the broken threads of that old dream,
> 
> And go on happy as before, and seem
> 
> Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.
> 
> Let us forget the graves which lie between
> 
> Our parting and our meeting, and the tears
> 
> That rusted out the gold-work of the years,
> 
> The frosts that fell upon our gardens green.
> 
> Let us forget the cold, malicious Fate
> 
> Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,
> 
> And once more revel in the old sweet joys
> 
> Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late!
> 
> Forget the deep-ploughed furrows in my brow;
> 
> Forget the silver gleaming in my hair;
> 
> Look only in my eyes! Oh! darling, there
> 
> The old love shone no warmer then than now.
> 
> Down in the tender deeps of thy dear eyes
> 
> I find the lost sweet memory of my youth,
> 
> Bright with the holy radiance of thy truth,
> 
> And hallowed with the blue of summer skies.
> 
> Tie up the broken threads and let us go,
> 
> Like reunited lovers, hand in hand,
> 
> Back, and yet onward, to the sunny land.”
> 
> Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A week had passed, and Madge Mellark lay at peace in the family crypt. Despite whispers of concern around the household, Hope seemed hardly affected by the death of her ‘mother’. She continued her studies much in the same way, and even seemed happier with her father around the house. Katniss could only surmise the girl had seen so little motherly contact, that she never really lost the woman that had spent her last hours in the far wing of the house. It was a bittersweet thought to Katniss; laden with guilt and promise.

The same could not be said for Peeta. However inevitable Lady Mellark’s death was, however expected, he was clearly still affected by it. She never saw him shed a tear, even on the morning of the funeral; in fact she saw very little of him at all since the death. But there was a pained look in his eyes, and a pale pallor to his skin that was testament to some form of sleep deprivation. But his words the day he saw her again still ate at her heart, and the vision of how he looked at her crept into her dreams and nightmares, until the time came when she knew the decision she needed to make.

xXx

“Leaving already then, sweetheart?” 

Katniss had hoped to avoid a confrontation with anyone. Once she had come to her decision to leave, as heartbreaking as it was, she did it with haste. She owed it to her daughter, and to Peeta, to give her two weeks’ notice, otherwise questions could be raised. And although she knew she had to leave, and as much as it nearly killed her to think of leaving Hope again, at least she now had an address to find her. And with time, and communication, perhaps Peeta could let her back into her daughter’s life again one day.

But with the quizzical sneer Haymitch Abernathy seemed to be giving her, all plans on avoiding lengthy conversation about her leaving were clearly in vain. Clutched in his hands was the very letter she had explained her ‘reasons’; elaborate bending of the truth of course, fickle excuses about family needs and how she needed to return home as soon as possible. One look at his face, and she could tell he wasn’t buying it.

“Mr Abernathy, my reasons are in the letter. I regret very much having to leave, but I don’t see another way. You can find another governess I am sure.”

“It’s not another governess I’m concerned about. I’m concerned about the girl.” She turned from the window to look at him. “Would have thought every child needs their mother.”

“I am sorry that Lady Mellark died, but there’s really- ”

“Oh come now girl, don’t think me a fool. Even if Effie hadn’t given me your name three years ago, I would have been able to tell the minute I saw you. You’re two branches from the same bough; even a simpleton could see it.” 

Katniss could feel the colour drain from her face at the thought of her easy discovery. “Does everyone - ”

“No, no, in case you hadn’t noticed, the staff around here are beyond simpletons. But listen here girl,” he held up the now slightly crumpled letter in his hands, “if you’re leaving because of some high and mighty noble reason, you’re bloody wrong.”

“You don’t understand Haymitch, I can’t stay. It would only hurt Hope if I did.”

“Bollocks!” he said, not caring about the way she flinched as he swore. “Taking the chance of her having her mother would hurt her. So don’t give me that. What has made you suddenly change your mind about being here? You were all fire the day I met you, completely alive when you saw Hope again. Something’s changed that.” Haymitch perched at the edge of her bed, and motioned for her to sit. Much softer than before, as if he was comforting a child, he continued. “I don’t know why you think it’s necessary to leave, but I’m sure you came here for the right reasons. I don’t think you are leaving for them though.”

It was only a handkerchief being held in the corner of her blurred vision that she realised she had begun to cry.

“If you’re leaving because of Mellark, then that is definitely a mistake.”

Katniss looked up at him then. “You didn’t hear what he said to me when he saw me Haymitch. He thinks I showed up because of the money. I - I can’t let him think that.”

“And leaving now and abandoning Hope is going to change his mind? Look sweetheart,” she watched him clasp his hands together as he continued, “you have an effect on him, one which I don’t think you’re aware. I saw him the day he came home from the Lakes, and let me tell you, he didn’t even look that way on his wedding day. Or the morning after for that matter.” Her silent stare encouraged him to continue. “His marriage to Lady Mellark, well…it was a match made by his parents and hers. It wasn’t exactly one of love, but they were very close childhood friends. Her death has still hit him very hard. And I suppose he is now feeling a lot of guilt too.”

“Guilt?”

“That he was never able to give her a child of her own. And then, just as he finds a way to do that, he ends up finding some kind of happiness with a woman that’s not his wife. And then his wife dying without really getting to love the child he brings her, well…of course he feels guilt. That boy has always felt too responsible for things out of his control.” 

The mattress beneath them shifted at the loss of his weight as he stood to leave. 

“Give him time. He’ll come around.” She watched him remove her resignation letter from his pocket as he turned towards her one last time. “I’ll throw this in the compost pile, where it belongs.”

xXx

There were times in the days since her talk with Haymitch, where she could feel Peeta’s eyes on hers. Largely he kept to himself, and any interaction they had was accidental and short lived. If he happened to enter a room she was in, he would awkwardly stumble an apology before swiftly exiting. She knew she shouldn’t feel the way she did, but she missed him. She had missed him for the time she had been apart from him, and yet now, with him so near, she missed him more. But she resigned herself to the fact that she had no right to feel that way about him anymore. He clearly did not like her being there, despite what Haymitch had said. So she tried her best to avoid him too.

The lake house in the centre of the lake, reached by a thin footbridge, was a refuge for Katniss. She often took Hope there on days when she felt particularly overwhelmed by Peeta’s proximity, or his looks. His blue eyes always flitted away from her the moment she turned her head. She could not place the look he held there, but it always made her pulse quicken and her thoughts go to a room they once shared with a flickering fire. The look he had given her that dark day he returned to Mockingjay Manor was never in his eyes again, and for that she was grateful. But she didn’t think she could handle this look either.

Visits out to the lake with Hope were mostly peaceful, until one particularly hot day when the waterlilies lay like a white blanket across the water. Katniss had taken the opportunity of a free afternoon to take her watercolours out there to paint the petals of the lilies into the plant book. Hope’s birthday was fast approaching, and she wanted to make sure she kept the book up to date for the day she might be able to finally give the book to her. 

She had been so engrossed in trying to mix the right shade of yellow for the stamen, that the shadow cast across her page caught her completely off guard. Silver eyes met blue, and she continued to watch him wide eyed, waiting for the moment when he would once again turn and flee her company.

But instead, he seemed to hesitate. His body language spoke of conflict in what he was to do next, until he had been standing so long in the doorway that she felt she needed to speak.

“If you wish it, I can leave. I should check on Hope anyway.”

But he held his hand out in a motion to stop her as she began to clear her paints. “No, please, I - I actually came in to speak with you.”

Gingerly, she sat back down and watched as he walked across to the window opposite her.

Despite his words that he had something to talk to her about, the silence continued to stretch between them, until it was so oppressive that she had to break it once more. “Look, I’m sorry if you don’t want me here. I was going to leave, but Haymitch said - ”

“That’s not true.”

She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. “What?”

“About me not wanting you here. I do want you here.”

Confusion laced her features. “But then why do you - ”

“Because I want you here too much!” He turned then, and she watched as he combed his hand through his golden hair before rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. “I failed Madge. She was a loyal wife to the end, and I failed her. I was only trying to make her happy and give her the child she always wanted, I never meant to…to…”

The look Peeta was giving her sent a warmth all the way to her fingertips. She watched his hands flex by his sides, the way his broad shoulders rose with every quick intake of breath. Feeling the sudden urge to move, she stood up and turned to face away form him, instead looking out at the lily pond. “Y-you shouldn’t feel that way. You did nothing wrong.”

“Every day I see you, I can’t stop thinking about you. My wife has just died, and instead of mourning, I find my thoughts and my senses filled with you.” HIs words had her blushing and her pulse racing. She wanted to turn around and face him, but she knew how dangerous that would be for the both of them. “You don’t realise the effect you have do you? The day I saw you in that room, something I had never felt before made me choose you. I tried to argue that it was simply a good match, but it was so much more.” His voice seemed to be closer to her then. “And then, in the Lakes, I couldn’t get enough of you. But not just at night. I wanted to know everything about you. I found myself regretting our arrangement, for all the wrong reasons.”

She felt his hand ghost across the loose hairs hanging from her bun at the back of her neck, and a small moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. He was impossibly close now, so close she could feel his body heat, feel his breath on her skin. 

His voice was almost a disappointed whisper as he spoke again. “I’m sorry for what I said to you that day I saw you here. I know you’re only here for Hope, so don’t think that I expect anything. But I just wanted to explain why I have been avoiding you, and that you have nothing to feel bad about. I realised if I can stop acting like I’m wounded, then perhaps we could be friends.”

But friends was not what she wanted from him. So she turned to face him, and found them both to be mere inches apart. 

“You’re wrong. I’m not just here for Hope.” She had to look down, at anywhere that wasn’t his searching gaze, or else she feared she could not say what she had been desperate to say to him for so many years. “The day we left the Lakes, it nearly killed me. I thought about you all the time. And then Effie took our daughter, and I nearly died all over again. Because she was ours Peeta.” She had not spoken his name out loud before, and it surprised them both. He only watched her silently, a strange look in his eyes following every feature of her face as she continued.

“And from what I know of Madge, she sounded like a true friend. A friend that would want you to be happy. Not blaming yourself when all you did was everything you could for her.”

His hand reached up to her face then, and traced a feather touch across her lower lip. Katniss kissed the tip of his thumb as he did so, before looking into his eyes; a blue to now match the lake at dusk. Slowly, the hand that held her face pulled her towards him, and finally lips brushed in the softest of kisses. The feel of his lips were warm, slightly calloused, but ambrosia. The kiss seemed to last forever and not long enough, until both slowly moved away, eyelids fluttered open like butterflies wings.

“Does this mean you’ll stay? With Hope and me?” A smile was all the response he needed.

Their lips met again, this time more urgency gripped them as the long separation from each other finally erupted. He pulled her closer to him at the hip, and his other hand slipped further into her hair, sending a pulse down her spine and causing a whimper to escape her throat. She gripped waterer part of him she could, desperately clinging onto what ever she could in order to keep herself from drowning in the pleasurable bliss she felt in that moment.

It was the gasp at the door that broke them apart, and both heads turned to see the silhouette of a head of brown curls disappear back from where it came, the sound of sobbing cutting through their reverie. With no words needing to be spoken between them, and one look of understanding shared between the lovers, Katniss headed after their daughter.

xXx

A fear like none she had ever felt before gripped Katniss as she stood in front of Hope. The girl had retreated to her favourite hiding place to cry. As her governess, or indeed as her mother, Katniss knew exactly where to find her when she ran off. On her way from the boathouse, she gripped the plant book tightly to her chest.

As she sat down quietly on the window seat of the landing her girl always ran to in times of grief, she allowed the little girl to turn to her in her own time, as she always did. Like most days, it did not take long before Hope was climbing into her lap.

“Why are you crying Hope?” Stroking her hair, and talking in a whisper, she continued. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

She heard her mumble into the cotton of her dress “you and daddy kiss.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry if that made you sad. Why did it make you cry?”

The girl’s piercing blue eyes met hers then, puffy and red but still just as striking as her father’s. “Cause daddy loves you and you love daddy.”

“And that upsets you?” The girl sniffed and wiped a tear with the back of her hand before nodding. “Why?”

“Cause daddy has you and he not need me anymore. Mommy left so daddy leave now too.”

Neither girl had noticed the figure standing at the end of the hallway until his footsteps alerted them to him. Gingerly, Peeta took the seat Hope had previously vacated, stroked the girl’s raven curls, then sighed. “Hope?”

He waited until she turned her head to face him. “Nobody is going to leave you. I’m your dad. Nothing is ever going to change that, you understand?” A small smile appeared on her face as he kissed the top of her head. The sight made Katniss’ heart melt.

“Can Katniss be mummy?”

Peeta looked up at Katniss as her ears began to fall. She only gripped Hope tighter, and kissed the top of her daughter’s head as she spoke. “Yes Hope, I’ll be your mummy.”

It did not matter to her that Hope did not yet know the truth of her past. To Katniss, this girl wanted her as her mother, and to her, to be chosen by Hope was more than she could have dreamt of.

xXx

Hope was ten years old when Katniss eventually decided it was time to sit down with the girl and explain the truth to her. She had worked as she always had every year, adding a watercolour every season that passed, until the point where on Hope’s tenth birthday, the book was filled with forty pictures of various plants and flowers. 

It took a lot less time for Hope to understand than Katniss had expected. If anything, her daughter seemed relieved that finally the truth had been spoken out loud, even if she did not need it stating. Perhaps it was the ongoing striking similarity in looks between mother and daughter, or even her middle name of Katniss that gave it away to her. In any case, Hope was finally able to open her present of the plant book and enjoyed sitting in the lake house with her mother explaining the various different flowers and plant varieties, as well as allowing her to read the messages Katniss had written for her over the years.

And that evening, as she watched Hope and her younger brother sleeping soundly in their rooms, she felt Peeta’s hand lightly hold hers, brushing her wedding band as he did so. And it was in that moment that Katniss knew it did not matter about the dark path that got them there. Things were good again. Katniss was home.


End file.
